The poetical works of Leigh Hunt Now finally collected, revised by himself, and edited by his son, Thornton Hunt. With illustrations by Corbould |
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 | The poetical works of Leigh Hunt |  |
“Ay, truly I do,” with a sigh crieth Grey;
“As truly as souls that for Paradise pray.
And hark ye, dear friend; you'll miss your sweet Anne,
If she weddeth, I wot, some giddy young man.
He'll bear her away, and be lov'd alone,
And wish, and yet grudge, your very tomb-stone.
Now give her to me, I'll give her my gold,
And I'll give to yourself my wood and my wold.
And come and live here, and we'll house together,
And laugh o'er our cups at the winter weather.
“As truly as souls that for Paradise pray.
And hark ye, dear friend; you'll miss your sweet Anne,
If she weddeth, I wot, some giddy young man.
He'll bear her away, and be lov'd alone,
And wish, and yet grudge, your very tomb-stone.
Now give her to me, I'll give her my gold,
And I'll give to yourself my wood and my wold.
And come and live here, and we'll house together,
And laugh o'er our cups at the winter weather.
| The poetical works of Leigh Hunt | |